Anytime
by Rightor
Summary: After Sam's bullies get ahold of Sam's father, John Winchester's, journal after taking it away from the youngest of the family, Sam has no other choice to run after them. However, Sam falls right into their horrible trap, but thankfully his older brother's there to help out. Unfortunately though, things don't always go according to plan.


**A/N: Quick drabble I had gotten the idea to write about. Please excuse any grammar and or spelling mistakes and I hope you enjoy! :)**

His voice fell flat as the sound of cracking ice echoed throughout the snow covered ground. Except it wasn't ground. It was a frozen lake and Dean was testing it's patience by shuffling farther and farther out into it. He looked up from where his feet dusted snow off of the solid water to see his baby brother, about eight years old, staring up at Dean with petrified eyes. His shaggy hair covered his pink cheeks and red nose as his arm tightened itself over Dad's journal. Dean didn't know how Sam ended up in the center of the frozen lake and didn't know how he had gotten ahold of Dad's journal, but all he cared about was getting Sam to safety.

* * *

 **An Hour Before:**

"What's that?" Pete snickered as he grabbed the book from Sam's grasp over his shoulder.

Sam stood abruptly from the wooden bench that he had cleared of snow and growled, "Pete, give that back."

"Awe, Pete, man. It's his diary." Victor next to him laughed, elbowing Pete in the side which almost resulted in the ten year old to drop the book.

"Hey, watch it." Pete growled. He turned his attention back to Sammy, "What do you write about in here? You're huge crush on Bridgett?"

"I don't have a crush on Bridgett and that book isn't mine, so hand it over before I-"

"Before you what?" Peter snapped, shoving the boy with his free hand, "You won't do squat cause' your big brother ain't here to save ya and you got no where else to hide."

"Dean would come the second I screamed!" Sam protested, his fists clenched, "Leave him outta this."

"Psh, whatever." The bully scoffed, beginning to flip through the pages as Sam lunged at him, Victor quickly putting the child in a headlock. "Ruga- what? Vampires? You seriously are one wacked up kid." He laughed.

Sam fought against Victor's grip but it was useless. He wailed and cried and used all the strength in his body to shove the jerk who restricted him off but his attempts all resulted futile. "L-Let me go! Victor, I swear once I tell Dean he'll-"

"Pete, he's gunna run and cry to Deanie." Victor pouted his lip before breaking into a fit of laughter.

His grip soon broke and Sam was immediately chasing after the two boys. His father'd kill him if he found out that the youngest stole his journal, let alone let it get placed in the hands of two idiots, so he ran as fast as he could after the two laughing morons. The two began to throw the book between them while the laughed, their winter coats beginning to get sprinkled with flurries. Sam, realizing that he didn't know where he was going, didn't have a coat, and was starting to get cold, tried once more to get towards the guys but they ran too fast. He didn't stop though.

The Winchester finally stopped to catch his breath after the two bullies had stopped themselves. Pete, who still had the journal in his grip grinned mischievously.

"Want it?" Pete smirked before tossing the book into a large, flat sheet of white snow. "Go get it."

Sam, seeing the opportunity to get the journal and go, ran after it without hesitation. His snow boots left prints in the snow as Victor and Pete stepped away from the flat surface snickering. It was only when Sam took the book into his hold that he heard the soft cracking. He froze, his body beginning to go into overdrive as he looked down to see faint cracks below him. He was even sure he saw a big... big... big _thing_ float by underneath. His breath caught in his throat and for a second he couldn't find a voice, but when he did it was loud and full of fear. He wailed, wailed so loud birds from the tree-tops squawked angrily with disturbance and flew off.

He cried for his brother and screamed for help, but the two boys who had led him there in the first place laughed hysterically and ran off back into the woods, leaving Sam alone.

Dean, who was a couple miles away at school, slugged his book bags against his back, adjusting them so they weren't digging into shoulders, and walked towards the bench where Sam was usually seated. The middle school Dean attended was around the corner from the elementary school Sam went to, for the time being as their father was on a hunt, so the older brother normally walked towards Sam's school and picked him up. His younger brother had been telling him about these two boys, Peter Swalloli and Victor Labrazetti, and had pointed them out, saying that they were given him a bit of trouble. Granted, the younger Winchester didn't really have that much of a choice as he accidentally let it slip that he hated the two and Dean kept prying until he spilled.

Nevertheless, Dean's emotion grew awfully skeptical when the two boys ran out of the woods laughing. Dean walked up to them and placed his arm out in front so they'd stop. It wasn't the first time he'd had a _talk_ with them, but the decreased amount of anger there was in his eyes from the last time told the two that this chat would be a lot less threatening (Dean may or may not have told them that if they didn't stop messing with his baby brother that'd he'd have another 'chat' with them except without the 'word' part). The older brother quickly analyzed them before scoffing and crossing his arms over his chest.

"Where's Sammy?"

"What?" Pete asked, looking somewhat confused as Victor behind him tried to hide the grin.

"Where's my little brother?" Dean asked, his voice showing no sign of tolerance for this BS.

"I have no clue what you're talking about." The blond-headed douche responded calmly as the dark headed one behind him began to snicker.

"You might not," Dean replied cooly before shoving him out of the way and grabbing Victor by the collar and pressing him against a tree, "but he might." His eyes narrowed lethally, "Where's my brother, Victor, and I swear to God if you tell me you don't know I'll beat the ever living lights out of you."

His grin was now gone, replaced with a face of concern. Pete, behind Dean, was motioning his hand across his throat in an attempt to tell Victor not to spill, but the boy whimpered, completely shattering under the intensity of Dean's gaze. "Madison L-Lake. He h-had a diary a-and we threw it o-out there and n-now he's stu-"

Dean dropped Victor after soon hearing a voice-broken scream of his name. He dropped his bags, completely ignoring the presence of the two and darted into the woods, following the cries of what sounded like his baby brother.

"Dean!" Sammy yelled, the ice around him beginning to creak even more.

He was running, but God dammit he wasn't moving fast enough. He quickened his pace, his feet merely touching the ground before the other was in the air and he soon was greeted with the sight of his brother stranded on a lake. A frozen, fucking lake.

"Sammy?!" Dean responded, his voice painted over with worry and concern and confusion and a bunch of other damn emotions the twelve year old couldn't process in the moment.

"De!" He cried.

* * *

So, now, Dean shuffled as slowly as he could, over ice that was already thin as it was, trying to get to his baby brother's aid. Sammy stood there helplessly, trying his best to shuffle towards Dean, but with every movement another crack. The ice around Dean's feet shattered more and more, creating a spider-web like effect which only scared him more. But he wouldn't show that. God, the _last_ thing Dean'd do is show Sammy he was scared because if he showed he was scared, he'd only make Sam feel ten times worse. So, instead, the brother kept a hardened face despite the blood that rushed through his veins so fast it was like an angry river and his frantic heartbeat.

He didn't know how long it was and or how many cracks he dodged before he managed to Sam, but at some point, he managed to Sammy. The boy was shivering, considering he didn't have any coat, and the first thing Dean did was wrap his arms around Sammy as tightly as he could, bringing the kid to his chest and not letting go. He didn't let go for quite some time before he shrugged off his winter jacket and handed it to Sam who gratefully took it. From there, Dean shuffled as slowly as before with Sam at his side and waddled towards land. He did this for a bit before the ice below him let out a heart-dropping groan. The ice below his feet sunk a bit and that's when Dean shoved his baby brother forward and told Sam to run, just like his father had the night his mother died. The night his entire world flipped.

Sam hesitated, but ran. Ran as quickly as he could as he heard the stomping feet of his brother behind him. Their feet which weren't synchronized like before made more heart-wrenching yells from the ice as it broke underneath their feet. Dean, behind Sam, kept getting stuck because his shoe kept stubbing into the broken ice Sam accidentally left in his wake. His shoe would collide with the broken, fractured ice and he'd trip for a second before regaining balance and continuing to run. By the time Sam made it back to shore, he let out a quick breath of relief, his heart beating frantic and turned to expect his brother behind him.

But that's not what he saw. Instead, he saw his big brother, halfway across the ice, running at full speed over already shattered ice. His pants were soaked up to his knees as he had fallen so many times, and Sam let out a cry as his brother soon paused, looked at Sammy, and dropped into the water, just like that. And then it was nothing but a white covered piece of what looked like land with footprints and some holes. His brother, gone, just like that.

Sam, swallowing all the courage he could, ran back onto the lake in search of Dean. He checked the hole Dean had fallen through to see no sign of his brother. His heart dropped as he fell to his knees, dusting away the snow until he heard the faintest pounding on the thin ice. He followed it to a section of the ice and cleared it away to see Dean holding his breath and banging against the ice for oxygen, using the bits of air bubbles he could. Not that that'd last long, but it was working. Sam, finding no other option, scrambled to his feet and sprinted back to shore, grabbing a heavy rock and shuffling back onto the ice, careful not to fall in himself. Dean, underneath the ice was looking blue as his thumps against the ice became less frantic and weaker.

Sam, without hesitation, slammed the rock into the ice right next to Dean's head. It startled the twelve year old boy, but after the third slam, the ice cracked open and Dean took his first gasp of air in over a minute and a half. His body was shaking so hard he was sure he'd pass out and his lips had become so cold he couldn't feel them. Sam immediately threw off his older brother's jacket, wrapping it around Dean. He quickly led his older brother off of the ice and ran through the woods, holding an ice-cold hand in his own, until he got to the school. No one was really there except the aftercare group and his father who typically picked Sam up if he wasn't back after four.

John, seeing his eldest in the condition he was, took no time to race from his car to his boy's aid. Dean slumped against his father who picked him up bridal style, snapping orders at Sammy as they got into the Impala. Dean sprawled in the back with two jackets on him, one from Sammy and the other from John; his infamous leather one, and Sammy hopped in shotgun, Dad in the driver's seat. He didn't waste any seconds as he started the car and sped home, not even attempting to stop at red lights and cutting slow drivers off without the slightest amount of guilt.

When they got back to the hotel, Dad ran towards the bathroom and turned the faucet on hot water, filling the bath. Sam helped Dean onto the bed, his arm over his younger brother's shoulder as his consciousness began to fade in and out. His body felt so cold, so, so cold. His hearing began to fade and his eyesight blurred, and the last thing he remembered before he blacked out was the screaming of his name.

He woke up with an agitated hum. His fingers were stinging; rather his entire body was stinging as he opened his eyes to find himself in a hot bath. His freezing cold skin meeting such hot water caused a prickling on his body which Dean didn't enjoy, however the heat of the bath causing such comfort he didn't mind the pain. His wet clothes clung to his body as he let out a soft groan. He then perked up slightly to hear his father's screaming outside the door and Sam's small voice, almost like a whimper.

He couldn't really move, but he forced himself to anyway. His body was still shivering and when he looked in the mirror his lips were still blue, however he regained his senses and could feel hot blood coursing through his veins, so he assumed he was okay. Hopefully anyway. He quickly grabbed a towel from the rack, wrapping it around his wet clothes and body, and grabbed the doorknob. Trudging out of the bathroom, neither of the other two Winchesters noticing, he took into account the scene that was laid out before him. John, who's back was turned to his eldest, was screaming at Sammy who sat on his bed, head hung low as tears trickled down his face.

"Dad..." Dean's voice whispered, his voice seeming almost weird to him as it was so weak. He called again, trying to add strength but it came out as another mere sound. So, he forced himself towards his father and tugged on his shirt softly.

The man whipped around angrily only to have his face soften as he looked to his eldest, "Dean, are you alright, what's wrong?"

Dean shrugged lightly, his gaze fixing on Sammy as he turned to his father, "What's happening?"

John heavily sighed as he shook his head, a glare being shot towards Sam, "He's tellin' me how it's not his fault that you ended up in that lake. He's not manning up to it. _And_ he stole my journal."

"But I didn't-" Sam started only to be shut up by a nasty look from his father.

"It wasn't his fault," Dean whispered, voice hoarse and scratchy, "that I ended up in the lake, S-Sir. These b-bullies stole your j-journal from him and t-tossed it out onto the lake. H-He went out for it but got st-stuck and I ran ou-t to help him b-but fell in once h-he made it b-back to shore."

John growled once more, raking his hands through his hair, "Did you do anything to those boys?"

Dean nodded slowly, "Y-Yes, S-Sir." His voice came out stuttering and slow as his vocal cords seemed fragile and frail.

"Ve-Very well." Dad humphed before looking to Sam, "I'm sorry, Sammy." He mumbled lightly before grabbing his leather jacket, "I'm going out. Watch your brother."

With that, John was gone, and almost immediately Sam's arms were around Dean. "D-De, I'm so sorry." He cried.

Dean dropped his towel, leaving him in his warm, wet clothes, shook his head and hugged his brother tightly, "D-Doncha be sorry, Sa-Sammy. It's okay. I'm h-here, see? Are y-you okay?" He whispered, rubbing his brother's back as the little boy whimpered and sobbed into his shoulder as Dean was in a crouched position to hug his younger brother.

"Y-Yeah. T-Thanks, De." He wheezed through breaths.

"An-Anytime, kiddo." He replied, despite his hoarse vocal cords, his voice sounding confident and strong.


End file.
